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Joanna Nealon

Photo by Janice Raynor

Bird-Watching

A dove lands on my right shoulder
Every morning of my life,
And I wake up.
But as soon as I 'remember',
I forget the patient dove
In my impatience to be me,
The small mean me,
Who does not know who I Am,
And who would become
Bigger, meaner,
If by nightfall,
I were not bent double
Under the weight of a colossal crow
On my left shoulder.
When I lie down in the dark,
The crow sits on my chest.
I know I cannot move it by force,
So I let go of the day.
Just as the crow lifts into night,
I Am asleep.